Paper Lace
by subtle tea
Summary: A visit to New York. An engaged couple who can barely speak to each other. Valentines. Heartache. Books. Bedrooms. A prequel to my prequel "To Light a Fire."
1. Robert's Party

Everyone clapped as the photographer began another seemingly endless series of photographs and Robert was finding it difficult to conceal his discomfort. It all seemed so artificial, so false. The room was decorated for a lavish celebration of his upcoming marriage to dry goods tycoon Isodore Levinson's not-quite-ninteen-year-old daughter Cora, but Robert couldn't shake the feeling that he was perpetrating a great deception upon everyone there and especially on the woman - more of a girl, really - that he would be taking away from everyone and everything she knew in a few months' time to spend the rest of her life with someone she barely knew and all for American dollars and and English title. He fidgeted self-consciously and gathered up the courage to look down at his future wife for a fraction of a second in between portraits eliciting a chorus of chuckles and silly comments from the gawking party guests.

Even with all of the roses, chubby, winged cupids, and heart-shaped decorations edged with very intricate and delicate paper lace, if someone focused on the whole event as much and as cynically as Robert was, the whole gilded facade fell away quickly enough. The distance between the young pair, both physical and otherwise, was as clear as day. They barely spoke and when they did, either Cora's nervousness or Robert's awkwardness ensured the experience would be brief. The ones who talked the most were their fathers, usually in Mr. Levinson's office and each with their respective lawyers present.

Both Mr. Levinson and Lord Grantham had wanted to negotiate the financial arrangements in detail, but their wives had been adamant that talk of money not spoil the wedding day itself, even though it was no secret that that was the catalyst for the marriage in the first place. The mothers had insisted that what Lady Grantham referred to as "this whole untidy business" be handled on a separate visit to insure that it would play as little a role as possible on the day. The millions that were to serve as Cora's dowery would be absorbed permanently into the Grantham family estate after the wedding and before the reception with a few strokes of a pen. The thought had crossed Robert's mind more than once that, despite all this talk of "Cora's fortune" and "Cora's money" she herself would only be wealthy for about a half an hour - the time it would take for them to travel from the church to Downton Abbey - before his signature stripped her of it all.

As he scanned the room, he noticed his mother and Cora's sitting side by side, each a pillar of strength in their own way. The real business behind the visit was the work of the fathers but all the smoke and mirrors - the great charade to hide the transactional nature of it all - was their mothers' joint effort and they had put their considerable differences of opinion on nearly every subject aside to try and make the visit a chance for Robert and Cora to become more acquainted with each other in a place where Cora was most at ease. After all, these were two women who knew what it was to marry for love and, as much as they each did their best to hide it, the idea that their own children would be denied that in the name of money and status weighed heavily upon each of them no matter how much they would deny it.

"Now, Lord Downton, for these last few would you put your hand on the back of her chair, please? Near her left shoulder," the photographer instructed. Robert took a deep, mildly exasperated breath, raised his right hand, and let it drop into place, and knew as soon as he felt the warm silk and chiffon under his fingers and heard Cora's surprised gasp and the guests' laughter that he had managed to foul things up. He looked down at his hand resting firmly on Cora's shoulder. Slowly he raised his gaze to meet hers. He felt his throat tighten and his face burn, but he found himself incapable of looking away. She certainly wasn't unattractive by any stretch of the imagination. As he gawked down at her awkwardly, his gaze fell on her soft, full lips. He had kissed her before and as he stood staring at her, he could almost feel their warmth. She bit her bottom lip lightly, out of nervousness most likely, and his mind was filled with all sort of very ungentlemanly thoughts indeed. He swallowed hard, oblivious to the chuckles and knowing smiles of the guests. The photographer's calls of "Lord Downton" eventually brought him back to reality and the last few photos were taken without any further delay but Robert's hand never left his bride-to-be's shoulder.

After "the ordeal with that chap and his camera" was over Robert had helped Cora to her feet and then promptly took his leave of her. She had eventually joined a group of her friends and Robert, having no friends of his own at the party, had quickly retreated to stand by the wall and be gently lectured by his father.

"You can't keep running from her my boy," Richard Crawley said quietly, "or you'll be running for the rest of your life."

"Yes, Papa," Robert groaned.

The older Crawley cracked a smile as he continued. "There's clearly some interest there on your part…" he teased as Robert stood watching Cora as she stood across the room from him and laughed with the dear friends that would soon be trans-Atlantic pen pals.

"She'll be lonely at Downton," Robert murmured as much to himself as to his father. "She'll be unhappy and very alone and stuck there for the rest of her life."

"Well," Richard sighed as he gave his son's shoulder a pat, "it will up to you to keep that from being the case. You two may find that this match suits you both."

"And what's the likelihood of that?" Robert grumbled. His father tried to continue, but Robert kept going. "It'll be a lie, Papa." He picked up one of the delicate paper hearts off the table he was standing next to a looked at it disdainfully. "Just like all of this nonsense and paper lace - a garish cover-up for how empty the whole thing is. For goodness sake, we're leaving the country on Valentine's Day and yet the whole room is covered in these silly valentines!" he snapped as he threw the Valentine down on the floor in front of his father. He turned sharply away from Lord Grantham and came face to face, quite unexpectedly, with his future wife. He instantly regretted everything he'd said as he watched the tears well up in her pretty blue eyes. She looked as if she'd crumble right there before him.

"I'm sorry, Robert," Cora squeaked and then darted out of the room.

Robert followed after her while attempting to maintain as much decorum as possible. "Miss Levinson!" he called as he reached the stairs she was halfway through climbing. She stopped and, for a moment, she stood there just looking down at him with and expression he couldn't read.

"Miss Levinson?" she asked softly.

"Miss Levinson, I…" he tried to continue with some sort of apology or explanation as her lip began to quiver and in an instant she'd disappeared up the remaining stairs.

"My name is Cora!" she cried from the floor above as she ran to her room.

Robert sighed heavily and sat at the bottom of the stairs thinking about just how little he understood the woman he was going to marry.


	2. Cora's Party

Everyone clapped as the photographer began another seemingly endless series of photographs and Cora didn't quite know what to make of it all. It all seemed so awkward in a way it hadn't before. The room was decorated for a lavish celebration of her upcoming marriage to the future Earl of Grantham, Robert Crawley, but Cora couldn't shake the feeling that, even given the fact that his only reason for marrying her was the fortune she would bring to his struggling estate, Robert was the only man she could ever see herself with. There was something about the quiet strength in his voice and his understated manner that drew her to him. His blue eyes captivated her and she longed to be close to him - alone with him - an get to know him even though every time they were together she became too nervous to speak more than a few words. She wanted to learn what made him happy, what made him laugh, and everything else he could bear to share with her. As she stole a glance up at her silent, serious betrothed in between portraits, she couldn't help but wonder if this was what being in love felt like. She smiled slightly to herself as a chorus of chuckles and silly comments from the gawking party guests made her blush.

The photographer continued about his trade and Cora let her eyes wander around the room. The decorations had been her doing. She and the maids had peppered the room with roses, chubby, winged cupids, and hearts edged with paper lace that she had made herself. She'd started making them the day she'd been told of his visit and in spite of her parents barely concealed disapproval. Her mother had come to her bedroom several times and tried to put the nature of the upcoming wedding into perspective for her besotted daughter. With heavy sighs and sympathetic looks, she had told Cora, as gently as she could, what she already knew. That Robert was a fortune hunter. That she was still young and that there were plenty of young, suitable men who might be able offer her what her mother called "a true marriage". That the Viscount Downton, despite his gentle voice, appealing manner, and the blue eyes that Cora kept going on about, was after her money and not her heart. "I will give him my heart as a wedding gift, then," she'd replied without looking up from the valentine she was making.

Everyone was there for the party, or rather almost everyone. Annabel was missing and Cora felt that absence acutely. Annabel was her favorite cousin. She had married the previous summer and Cora desperately wanted to talk to her before her marriage, but Annabel was expecting and could not travel. She would probably not see her confidant and closest friend before her wedding day and then there was no way to tell when they'd meet after that. There was so much Cora wanted to ask and she knew that Annabel would give her answers no matter what propriety dictated. She so needed that kind of honesty now because everything was changing and Cora was beginning to feel overwhelmed by it all and, worse yet, she could sense a change in Robert as well. Only a few months before he could take her in his arms and ask her to be his wife. Now he hardly spoke to her and she had no idea what she'd done to make him so distant. She could only hope that in time his affection for her would return. She tried to put out of mind the comments she'd heard her mother and aunt whispering just that morning about the fickle hearts of wealthy, young men.

As she scanned the partygoers gathered before her, she began to take more notice of those who were absent. Eleanor was still on her honeymoon and wouldn't be back for nearly a month. She'd married Davis, a close friend of Cora's brother, Harold. Everyone had known they'd end up together and when the marriage was announced two months after Eleanor turned eighteen, absolutely no one was the least bit surprised. Cora could not think of ever seeing two more happy people than Eleanor and Davis on their wedding day. More unsettling to her was Nicolette's absence. A year and a half before, Nicolette had gotten herself into a "cash for titles" arrangement similar to the one Cora was about to enter into and from her letters it seemed nothing short of miserable. Her husband, a baron twice her age, had refused to let her travel on her own even as he went off hither and yon leaving her alone for weeks on end. She rarely commented on what life was like when he was around other than to say that he wasn't as sweet to her as he had been before they were married. Cora could only hope her fate would be different. Surely her gentle, kind Robert wouldn't treat her that way.

"Now, Lord Downton, for these last few would you put your hand on the back of her chair, please? Near her left shoulder," the photographer instructed Robert as Cora sat still lost in thought. Robert's hand on her shoulder jolted every thought from her mind and brought a rosy hue to her cheeks as the assembled guests laughed. Her breath came quicker as she looked first at his hand and then at his face. Their eyes met and life itself seemed to slow. She felt her pulse quicken as she became very aware of one of his fingers that was placed ever so lightly against the base of her neck. she hoped he couldn't feel the way her heart was pounding or the warmth his touch generated in her. If he could, she hoped such a revelation wouldn't make him withdraw further. The thought worried her and she bit her bottom lip nervously. He swallowed hard and it did not escape her notice. Maybe she did have some sort of an effect on him after all. As the crowd's giggles and comments died down, Cora could not hold back the smile that curled the corners of her mouth. Robert's hand had never left her shoulder and that small gesture meant so much to her.

After the last photo was finally taken Robert helped Cora to her feet. For a moment they stood together holding hands, unsure of how to proceed. Cora took as step closer to her further husband hopeful that he would then take her arm and lead her off to talk with him in a more private setting. "Robert, you're so good to me." she said softly as she gazed up at him. He fidgeted and reddened and then promptly took his leave of her. She stood alone and watched him walk away from her. Eventually she found her way to a group of her friends but she still kept an eye on Robert as he talked with his father. He was watching her, she knew it, and that only made her more confused. He was more comfortable staring at her across a crowded room than he was when they were together and getting to know each other. As she laughed with her friends, she wondered whether his intense looks and seeming refusal to talk to her meant that he would treat her like just another decoration for his stately home instead of trying to build some sort of future together with her.

Her friends could see that she wanted to spend more time with her fiancé and they offered all the encouragement they could. Eventually, Cora worked up her nerve and walked timidly across the room to her future husband. She would show that she wanted to be his wife, not just his financier. She approached him and realized that her was in a heated discussion with his father. She was about to turn and leave when she overheard the man she would be marrying in less than three months say something that made her unable to move. "It'll be a lie, Papa," Robert said coldly. "Just like all of this nonsense and paper lace - a garish cover-up for how empty the whole thing is." So this was all just a hallow transaction for him. Of course he didn't want to discuss building a life together because, for him, there was nothing there for one to be built upon. Suddenly he turned and they were face to face. She looked into his gentle eyes and thought about all of the kindness and the affection he'd shown her - the beautiful kisses they'd shared both in Newport and when he'd proposed to her in a clearing by a lake on the rounds of Downton Abbey - and felt as if she'd crumble right there before him.

"I'm sorry, Robert," Cora squeaked and then darted out of the room as tears began to roll down her cheeks.

Robert followed after her as she ran to her bedroom. "Miss Levinson!" he called. She stopped and, for a moment, she stood there just looking down at him as the full extent of his dismissal of her affection hit her. She could try to give her heart to this man all day and all night long and it wouldn't matter at all if he refused to accept it. She couldn't make him care.

"Miss Levinson?" she asked softly. She had been Cora to him before. She had been Cora when they'd talked at the New York parties. She had been Cora to him when they'd snuck off together to watch the sunset in Newport the night they'd kissed and he had invited her to his country and his home. She had been Cora to him when he'd asked for her hand and, by extension, both her fortune and her future. Now that the deal was made and the papers drawn up, he was pulling away from her and using formalities and etiquette to try to hide it. She could see through that. The warmth and comfort she'd found with him was slipping away from her and it hurt her more deeply than anything she had ever experienced.

"Miss Levinson, I…" he tried to continue. Her lip began to quiver and in an instant she'd disappeared up the remaining stairs. She could not let him see how he had broken the heart that belonged to him now in spite of the both of them.

"My name is Cora!" she cried from the floor above as she ran to her room. As she closed the door and collapsed onto her bed sobbing, she wondered how long she and Robert would have to be married before she would be numb to him, both to the words that caused her pain, and the little gestures that filled her with such silly hopes.


	3. Of Robert's Head

The house was still as Robert perused the Levinson family's library is search of something - anything - to dull the thoughts that had been swirling through his head since the party. The marriage had to happen. It was vital to the future of his family and crucial for the social standing of hers. It still felt wrong, though, and he couldn't rid himself of the idea that Cora - young, beautiful, sweet Cora - was leaving her happy life filled with family and friends for one where she would be lonely, unhappy, and an ocean away from anyone that could ever make her smile the way he'd watched her smile that afternoon before his offhand grumbling had sent her scampering from the room on the verge of tears. He had been quite surprised by how the sight of Cora Levinson's smile had made him feel and how hard it had been to control the effect she had had on him. He had come perilously close to embarrassing himself to an almost unbelievable degree and he had never in his life been so thankful for the boring conversation of dull, old men because if he had spent those few hours with nothing to do but stare at Cora as she moved so elegantly around the room, he would not have been able to stand for the portraits and maintain the appearance of a gentleman. His mother had asked him more than once what had him so on edge and others had asked about his near constant fidgeting as well. He had made some silly, completely dishonest excuse which had pacified everyone with the exception of his sister, Rosamund, who had teased him without mercy every chance she got. She'd actually made things worse as she'd sat with him commenting on little things about Cora's appearance that would direct his gaze to certain areas her body - the lace on her gown that just happened to be applied to the bodice of the gown, or pointing out the lovely color of the gown's silk just as Cora was bending forward reaching for something with her back to Robert. "He's never given so much thought to a gown in his life," Rosamund had said with a laugh, but she couldn't have been more wrong. He couldn't careless about the dress she was wearing. His thoughts were occupied by what was underneath it. At least once, Cora had caught him staring and had smiled back at him affectionately which had only made think of her lips and what delightful things they could do. Yes, he did love to see her smile.

He was missing her pretty smile already. Cora hadn't come down for dinner that evening. Everyone had known why, but they hadn't made it a topic of conversation for the most part. After dinner, Cora's father had brought him into the study to show him a new acquisition - a brace of finely crafted dueling pistols. Robert had found it difficult to pay attention to his future father-in-law's words while he watched the man admiring the gun in his hand, but he picked up enough about honor, and commitment, and kindness, and the ferocity of a father's love and concern for a beloved daughter to get his future father-in-law's message - Isodore Levinson was putting him on notice after the incident at the party. He would stand by as his daughter was hurt. Robert wasn't sure if the fact that he was not the only one who had doubts about how good a match this was for Cora made him feel better or worse but he had taken his leave and went up to bed as quickly as propriety allowed.

Sleep had proven to be quite illusive for Robert - his bed was as cold as ice - so he'd quickly put on a heavy dressing gown and had found his way to the library where he was still trying to find something to read. He avoided all political texts, deeming them too argumentative. A Tale of Two Cities? "It was the best of times; it was the worst of times"? No. The Art of War? Hamlet? Absolutely not. As he fumbled around in the low light, he knocked a book off the shelf and it fell with a loud bang. He grabbed the book off the floor and hurried toward the stairs before Mr. Levinson found him creeping about the place in his night clothes and got the wrong idea. Whatever the book was, it would have to do. He approached the stairs, but at the last minute bypassed them and wandered into the big parlor where that afternoon's party had been held. He glanced around the room not really sure what he was looking for. Most of the decorations had been cleared away, but some had been left to be cleared away in the morning. He picked up one of the paper hearts and tucked it between the first couple of pages of the book as a makeshift bookmark. As he turned to leave his eyes settled on a crumpled bit of paper silhouetted in the moonlit room - the Valentine he'd dropped dismissively at the feet of his future bride. He sighed. What a horrible thing to do to her, he thought, especially when she was nothing but sweet to him. "No wonder she didn't wanted to see me at dinner," he mused to himself. He shook his head as he left the room and made his way to his bedroom with the image of that discarded valentine seared into his thoughts. He could not believe that this was how he would live pretty much from that day onward, fumbling around in the life someone he barely understood. As he ascended the stairs, he held the book closer to the candle to see what he'd be reading that evening. He saw the title, The Odyssey, a book about a man's long journey back to his beloved wife, and determined that fate itself was out to antagonize him that day.

He had just settled down with the book when there was a soft knock on the door. Robert opened it and was once again face to face with the young woman he would soon take as his wife. She hadn't even bothered to put on a robe or slippers and was standing there barefoot and wearing nothing but a nightgown with her long dark hair tied bake with a simple ribbon. She was more beautiful to him at that moment than she'd been in all of her finery that afternoon. All he could do was stare at her as all of the thoughts his sister's commentary had planted in his brain came rushing back much to his chagrin. She couldn't meet his gaze and she still seemed quite hurt. She played with her hands as she spoke. "You're leaving tomorrow." There was a tremble in her voice as she spoke softly. Robert couldn't decided whether was the result of her holding back tears or reacting to the chill of the night air but the sound of it made him feel very guilty as she continued. "I just wanted to be sure I got to say a proper goodbye. I won't see you much until the week we're to be married and I just wanted a moment by ourselves to say goodbye." Clearly, he had fouled things up at least as badly as he'd thought. He could see the pained look on her face and Robert had all he could do not to pull her into his warm arms and at least try to kiss away her insecurity as he noticed her shiver. His mind was racing, but he could not come up with a thing to say as he looked down at her and the tears beginning to form in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… I'm sorry. Goodnight," She stammered and then in a flash of ivory silk she was gone.

"Wait," Robert called a moment to late. He shut the door and flopped onto the bed with a huff. When he reached for his book, he notice a slip of paper had slid out from between the pages. It was a folded sheet of sketches. Sketches of the decorations from that afternoon and what was needed to make them. He recognized the handwriting from Cora's letters to him. He sat up, mouth agape, as realization set in. She had done it all. She'd put the whole thing together while reading the book that now sat beside him on that cold bed of his. It hadn't been their mother's desperate attempt at keeping up appearances at all. It was her gesture and she had never been anything but genuine with him, so he had no reason to doubt the sincerity of the affection behind such a gesture. What he had dismissed as silly nonsense had actually been his young bride-to-be's very real excitement over her upcoming marriage. Their upcoming marriage. Oh, he had fouled things up much much worse than he'd thought. He leapt out of bed and ran downstairs to the parlor looking for a balled up bit of paper lace.


End file.
